This was a fun read. I liked the apocalyptic overtones and your..."creative" extermination approaches. If every person in America had your kind of dedication the rats would only speak the name of America in harsh, deathly frightened whispers, and only when they were sure no one was around to hear them.

On a more serious note, I think I may know the current condition of your Invader. See, it went down like this:

About a week and a half ago I noticed some of the telltale signs of an Invader in, of all places, my garage. Strangely, my first thought was of your troubles and I immediately worried that I might be facing your exact foe. Immediate action was taken.

1) Right there and then, all access points into and out of the garage were blocked.

2) Instead of trying to flush the rat out, I left it a few luxurious hiding places and saw to it that the only access to food was from some bits and scraps I left in the bare open space in the middle (just to screw with his head, I poisoned some of the food at random). This would, I hope, mean that the rat would have to periodically abandon cover.

The Demon Murphy, however, was early to the growing conflict and I was presented with a new tactical challenge: Three Rats, only one of which matched the description of your Invader. I don't know the exact relation of the other two to the one, but I suspect they were hired muscle; both were larger by about two inches.

One of the larger rats was knocked off immediately when it ate a tainted cheeto. The others got smart after that and somehow found a way to eat around the poison I'd put down. In response, I set rat-traps (admittedly, none were nearly as awe inspiring as yours) and managed to injure one of the little bastards (I later learned from an autopsy that it'd been the other big one).

So, I still had two rats running around. One was a clever little bastard and the other was good at following the clever bastard's orders. One of them was certainly injured. Rats don't have any kind of camaraderie instinct that I know of, so the latter didn't provide much of an advantage. In order to take them down, I knew I'd have to go to more direct measures.

See, I also have a neighbor with some crazy stuff in his house, but stuff that he'd thought might come in handy for killing Russians in WWI. I borrowed a night vision scope that I could more or less attach to a pellet gun I owned after politely turning down his offer for some homemade claymores (he may have been joking, but maybe not). That very night I took up a spot on a workbench, turned off the lights, and waited. It was the big one that braved the open space first, and I managed to finally pacify him after two attempts. I was feeling smug with myself until I realized I'd been had; the rat I'd sniped had only been a diversion! At the last second I spotted the clever one disappearing under the very workbench I was sitting on, dragging along an entire packet of food! The little sonofabitch wanted to wait me out…

I kept my vigil for several days after that, always varying my watch times (whenever possible) to make sure the Invader never picked up a pattern. He remained silent and unmoving for that entire time. Then he made the One Mistake of appearing in the daytime, when he no doubt felt that his Intelligence was solid on my being out of the house. His Intelligence, however, was no match for the Demon Murphy and I came upon him trying to squeeze his way out of the side-yard door. I didn't have my pellet gun with me, so I grabbed the nearest shovel and went for him. Stuck in the middle of the door, he didn't stand a chance.

Their heads were severed from their bodies and set on display while I tore the garage apart to make sure there were no more of the bastards in reserve. After that, they were dropped into acid (we keep it around to clean gunk off of metal) and the soupy remains were mixed with dirt, sealed into a can, and then buried five feet down. The grave is unmarked, and I regularly relieve myself there whenever I'm working out back.

Needless to say, your tale was my inspiration for the ruthlessness needed to take the Invaders down. Thanks to your own protracted war, I was able to subdue my foe, and possibly close the book on yours, although I know it's dangerous to get our hopes up.

Jave Harron chapter 3 . 5/7/2004

Crafty little rodent! A funny end to a humorous tale... Too bad it wasn't the rat's tail with its humours flowing out...

Twist1 chapter 3 . 5/7/2004

Haha. That would've driven me insane! Great narrative. Rat recon doesn't stand a chance with you on the job!

_ So what's happening? Has the vermin outwitted you yet? I remember finding a rat that my cat was playing with and, ever the animal person, I placed the thing on my arm(the only reason it didn't bite me, in retrospect, was because it was in shock). Needless to say my Mom was less than thrilled... If the beast still lives, you should consider borrowing a good hunting cat...